All Poems
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East London
© Matthew Arnold
'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead
Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green,
And the pale weaver, through his windows seen
In Spitalfields, looked thrice dispirited.
Memorial Verses
© Matthew Arnold
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece,
Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease.
But one such death remain'd to come;
The last poetic voice is dumb--
We stand to-day by Wordsworth's tomb.
Reconciliation
© William Butler Yeats
SOME may have blamed you that you took away
The verses that could move them on the day
Sohrab and Rustum
© Matthew Arnold
"Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear!
Let there be truce between the hosts to-day.
But choose a champion from the Persian lords
To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man."
Down The Stream The Swans All Glide
© Spike Milligan
Down the stream the swans all glide;
It's quite the cheapest way to ride.
Their legs get wet,
Their tummies wetter:
I think after all
The bus is better
The Voice
© Matthew Arnold
As the kindling glances,
Queen-like and clear,
Which the bright moon lances
From her tranquil sphere
My Darling
© Adam Mickiewicz
When my sweetheart, in happy mood,
Sings, trills and chirrups like a bird,
I savour each sweet moment,
And dwell on each happy note.
I have no wish to interrupt;
I only want to listen, listen, listen.
Consolation
© Matthew Arnold
Mist clogs the sunshine.
Smoky dwarf houses
Hem me round everywhere;
A vague dejection
Weighs down my soul.
Moscow Carol
© Joseph Brodsky
In such an inexplicable blue,
Upon the stonework to embark,
The little ship of glowing hue
Appears in Alexander Park.
Shakespeare
© Matthew Arnold
Others abide our question. Thou art free.
We ask and askthou smilest and art still,
Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill,
Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty,
It would never be CommonmoreI said
© Emily Dickinson
It would never be CommonmoreI said
Differencehad begun
Many a bitternesshad been
But that old sortwas done
The Last Word
© Matthew Arnold
Creep into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!
Vain thy onset! all stands fast.
Thou thyself must break at last!
The Forsaken Merman
© Matthew Arnold
Come, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below!
Now my brothers call from the bay,
Now the great winds shoreward blow,
Voices
© Walt Whitman
O what is it in me that makes me tremble so at voices?
Surely, whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her I shall
follow,
As the water follows the moon, silently, with fluid steps, anywhere
around the globe.
A Wish
© Matthew Arnold
I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
For these besiege the latest breath
Of fortune's favoured sons, not me.
To A Friend
© Matthew Arnold
Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind?--
He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men,
Saw The Wide Prospect, and the Asian Fen,
And Tmolus hill, and Smyrna bay, though blind.
A Boy's Song
© James Hogg
Where the pools are bright and deep,
Where the grey trout lies asleep,
Up the river and over the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.
Longing
© Matthew Arnold
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Bowles And Campbell
© George Gordon Byron
Why, how now, saucy Tom?
If you thus must ramble,
I will publish some
Remarks on Mister Campbell.
